


A Different Kind of Story

by storyandshark



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Princess Bride (1987)
Genre: Canon-Typical Banter, DA2 Found Family Dynamics, F/F, Just the Princess Bride with Hawkabela, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyandshark/pseuds/storyandshark
Summary: At Cassandra’s request, Varric tells a very different story. In which Hawke is betrothed, Isabela is supposedly dead at the hands of a pirate, and things, as always, go to shit.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Isabela
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	A Different Kind of Story

**Author's Note:**

> I legit wrote this a year and a half ago but fuck it here it is

“Shouldn’t they be back by now?” 

Varric, quite luckily, is facing away and Cassandra can’t see him roll his eyes. “They’ve been gone for ten minutes, Seeker, and in case you haven’t noticed, the Hinterlands are really damned big.” 

“There are herbs everywhere here. Surely it wouldn’t take long to find more.” Cassandra tries to stand and grunts when she puts weight on her injured leg. 

Varric turns away from the fire he’s stoking to give Cassandra a look. “They’ll be fine. I’m sure Solas just got distracted by some magic shit again and dragged the Inquisitor along with him. Besides, it’s not like you can do much after being attacked by… how many bears was it again?” 

“Four,” Cassandra grumbles. 

“Yeah, so that means we’re going to wait here until we can get you back on your feet in case there are more bears.” Varric shakes his head. “There are always more bears.” 

Cassandra sighs. “There has to be  _ something _ we can do.” 

Varric shrugs. “Unless you’ve got paperwork to fill out or assholes to shoot with a crossbow, I don’t generate much in the way of leisure activities.” He pauses for effect, face sliding into a smirk. “Or I could tell a story, of course. But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to hear that.” 

“You could-” Cassandra clears her throat, trying to rid her voice of excitement. “I suppose that would be a way to pass the time.” 

Varric taps his chin thoughtfully. “Hm, well, let me think. I’ve already told you everything about Hawke, and you’ve been here for all this weird shit with the Inquisitor, so I guess I’ll have to make something up. And if I’m making it up for you, that’s going to have to include a minimal amount of boring politics, copious numbers of sword fights, and, knowing your affinity for my more risqué works, at least a little bit of kissing.” 

Cassandra glares at the last bit, but nods to let him know to continue. 

Varric grins, settles back, and begins to tell his tale. 

\--- 

Marian Hawke wasn’t the prettiest girl in all the lands, but she was most definitely  _ something _ . She was renowned for her magical prowess, her sharp tongue, and the grin she wore when she decided to get into trouble. Not that there was really much trouble to be had, seeing as her family lived on a farm a long ways from the nearest kingdom of Kirkwall. And it was hard to even tell if she caused the trouble or if the trouble just gathered around her. 

The only other person who gathered trouble like Hawke was Isabela. Isabela didn’t have a last name, thank you very much, and she was the only person around the farm not a part of the Hawke family. She still remained the only one, even after all the Hawkes but Marian died or moved away. While it would be much more romantic to say it was out of loyalty, it was really because Hawke kept paying. Isabela wasn’t formally hired, and she only loosely fit the definition of ‘help,’ but she provided her services to the farm. Hawke asked her to help defend the place from bandits or wildlife and to occasionally help with the chores. 

For the most part, Hawke and Isabela kept their distance. Until, of course, Hawke fell in love. 

Isabela, on the other hand, did not fall in love, at least not at first. She thought that she and Hawke were having a meaningless fling, and then another meaningless fling, and then another meaningless fling. 

She wasn’t sure when she fell for Hawke, but it happened all the same. 

But such things weren’t to last. The farm eventually fell on hard times, hard enough times that the debt was piling on and the coin was disappearing fast. Isabela hadn’t been paid in months, but she stuck around anyway. She stuck around for a long time, only deciding to leave when there was no money left. Then Isabela decided to take matters into her own hands. 

“It’s dangerous out there, you know,” Hawke said, her sly grin hiding the worry boiling inside her. “There could be monsters, pirates, creepy old sailors…” 

Isabela shrugged. “Oh, it can’t be too bad. I’ll only be gone a month, maybe two, and then I’ll be back here shoveling cow shit like normal.” 

Hawke reached out for Isabela’s hand. “Just make sure you come back, alright?” 

Isabela grinned, bringing Hawke’s hand to her face to kiss it. “You’re too bad an influence for me to stay away.” She sighed, shaking her head with a small smile. “It’s stupid, but I’ll always come back.” 

She didn’t. Isabela left on a ship to get enough money to pay off the farm’s debts, and she never returned. At first, Hawke thought she had decided to leave. Isabela had done that before, declared she was done with Hawke and the farm and wanted to go claim her own fortune. She always came back. But this time she didn’t. 

It took four months for Hawke to learn that Isabela had died at sea. 

\--- 

Cassandra frowns. “That can’t be right.” 

Varric lifts an eyebrow. “Are you going to let me tell the story or not?” 

Cassandra grumbles and gestures for him to continue. 

\--- 

Isabela’s ship had been attacked by the Raider of the Waking Sea. The Raider never took prisoners. 

Hawke refused to accept that Isabela was gone for several months. Isabela was simply too clever, too cunning, too savvy to have been killed. But when Isabela still didn’t return, Hawke was forced to confront the fact that her lover was dead. 

Hawke was never good at grief. With her family gone, she had no one to talk to, no one to confide in. The most comfort she got was from her brother, Carver, who was about as good at emotional things as Hawke, which was to say he was not any good at all. Hawke spent years alone, barely keeping the farm running, struggling and grieving and feeling empty. 

Then the prince of Kirkwall arrived at the farm. The prince was not an ugly man externally, but he was very much an ugly man on the inside. He was cruel and had no regard for the opinions of his people. Still, he was the prince, and that meant he could do anything he liked. 

That included asking for Hawke’s hand in marriage, as she was conveniently isolated from anyone else in the kingdom and marrying one of the common folk would perhaps improve his reputation. Hawke refused, smiling and telling the prince that if he was going to fuck anyone, it was going to be himself. 

When the prince returned the next day, his trusted advisor and lieutenant Bartrand in tow, he advised Hawke to accept his offer. Hawke would have said no again, but the prince mentioned that they’d found Hawke’s brother in Kirkwall, and it would be such a shame for another member of the Hawke family to die tragically. 

And so Hawke was betrothed to a man she had no interest in, still mourning the loss of her lover at sea. 

There were a few comforts. The castle itself was nice, grand and rich. Hawke passed her time talking to the servants, who cared for the prince as much as she did. The king and queen, the prince’s parents, were at least tolerable. And there was also the one time Hawke used her magic to set the prince’s hair on fire. It probably wasn’t the best idea diplomatically, but no one had been conclusively able to blame her for it. Sometimes things just catch fire; it’s not always the fault of someone with magic and tendencies toward petty arson. 

Hawke spent as much time away from the castle as she could. At first, she spent time in the city, but most of the people there grew to resent her. She was a farm girl, so what if her family used to be noble? She had no more right to be princess than anyone else, and they all hated that she’d been elevated while they had not. It hardly mattered that she hadn’t wanted to be married to the prince. 

So Hawke took to walking through the woods. She had nothing to fear from bandits or thieves. They might have knives and swords, but Hawke could call down the wrath of the elements. Most miscreants knew to give her a wide berth. 

Except, apparently, a few of them. Late one afternoon, Hawke encountered a few ruffians that were much less intimidated. Two of them looked fairly average: a red-haired, strong-armed human woman and a small, brown-haired elven woman with tattoos and a staff. The third, the dwarf, was much more striking. He had glorious chest hair, a perfect roguish smile, flawless clothes, and the most beautiful crossbow ever crafted by mortal hands. He was the pinnacle of handsomeness, the paragon of manliness, the- 

\---

“ _ Varric _ .” 

“Seeker, I’m the one telling the story. I’m only trying to give it some authenticity.” 

Cassandra just sighs and shakes her head. 

\--- 

Hawke sized up (well, mostly sized  _ down _ , since two of them were significantly shorter than she was) the three strangers. “I’m going to guess you’re not part of the woodland friendship hiking group, are you?” 

The dwarf shrugged. “I probably couldn’t convince you that we are, could I?”

“Well, we could be part of the woodland hiking friendship group,” the elf said. “Or does it only count if your  _ goal _ is to hike while being friends?” 

“It’s probably the intent that matters,” Hawke raised one hand, flames flickering over her fingertips, “and I’m betting your intentions are less than pleasant.” 

“It all depends on how you look at it,” the dwarf said. “The way our employer’s looking at it, our intentions are following his ideals. The way I look at it, I’m getting paid good money. And the way you look at it… well, you’re probably going to be more focused on the sword Aveline’s about to hit you with.” 

Hawke blinked and whirled around, having just enough time to register the person standing before her. The red-haired human woman was there, having snuck around while the dwarf was talking. Hawke raised her hand, opening her mouth to say something. 

The human unceremoniously hit her over the head with the hilt of her sword. 

“Well,” she said, “that was easier than expected.” 

The elf winced. “Oh, that looks like it hurt.” 

The human — Aveline — shrugged. “Not anymore. She’s out cold.” 

“You’re sure?” the elf said. “If she wakes up-” 

“You don’t have to worry, Merrill.” Aveline hoisted Hawke’s limp body over her shoulder. “The reason I’m in this mess is that I’m good at hitting things. And Varric, of course, but at this point, what isn’t his fault?” She glared at the dwarf in question as she walked past him. 

Varric held up his hands as he followed her. “Look, I can’t help that my brother so happens to be both the prince’s advisor and a world-class asshole. Anyway, I’m the one that provided the distraction, which means I’m the reason we’re all still relatively intact.” 

“We’re not going to be intact if we don’t get back to the boat,” Aveline said, ripping a piece of cloth from Hawke’s sleeve to drop it on the ground. 

Merrill eyed Aveline with concern. “Won’t she be even more angry with us if we tear her clothes?” 

“The prince needs something to track her with,” Varric said. 

\--- 

“Hold on,” Cassandra says. 

Varric pauses midsentence, raising an eyebrow. “What is it this time?” 

“Who is the prince supposed to be?” 

“Does he have to be someone?” 

Cassandra frowns. “I… suppose not, but isn’t everyone in your stories meant to be someone?” 

“Huh. That’s weird. I thought I was the one telling this story. But if you want me to stop…” 

“No!” Cassandra coughs and tries to cover her emotions by prodding at her broken arm. “Just… just keep going.” 

\---

Hawke awoke to an unfamiliar face hovering over her and the worst headache she’d had in her life burning inside her skull. 

“You’re awake!” the person — who Hawke now recognized as the elf from the woods — said. 

“Ugh, I wish I wasn’t.” Hawke blinked and tried to bring her hands up to rub her eyes, but noticed they were bound together before she could. “Huh. Normally these things start out a bit differently, but I’ll take it. You want me to pay you now or after?” 

“Why would you-” The elf paused, reddened, and began to stutter. “Oh! That’s not- um, I mean, that’s- we’re not here to do… that.” 

Hawke scoffed. “Yeah, I figured. I’m never that lucky. What is this, then? Extortion? Trying to get my shithead of a fiancé to give you some coin?” 

“Well, no, not exactly…” The elf turned away and shouted “Varric! Aveline!” 

Over the next few moments, Hawke was able to sit up and take stock of the situation. Her hands and feet were tied and she was somewhere she didn’t recognize. That was already not ideal. And judging by the gentle swaying of the wood beneath her, the room she was in was on a boat. Also not great. 

The dwarf and human from the woods both came through a door on the other side of the room, which must have led to the deck. The dwarf must be Varric. Hawke remembered Aveline well, the persistent headache a good reminder. 

“Ah, good morning, princess,” Varric said, smiling widely in a way that would have been charming had Hawke not wanted to punch him in the face so badly. “Or good afternoon, I guess.” 

Hawke just sighed. “Look, how much do you want? I’ll just get Prince Asshat to give it to you; you don’t need to do whatever you’re trying to do here.” 

“That might be an issue,” the elf said. “The prince kind of… hired us.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Unfortunately, no.” Aveline tapped her fingers against the pommel of her sword. “Although that  _ is _ leaving out the part where Varric’s brother pressured us into it because of Varric’s gambling debt.” 

Hawke would have crossed her arms, but that wasn’t really a possibility at the moment. “So, what’s your game?” 

“Wicked Grace,” Varric replied, and upon seeing Hawke’s glare added “We’re supposed to bring you to Starkhaven, apparently. The prince told us jack shit about anything else, but I know getting you across the ocean is going to get us paid a lot of coin.” 

“I assume I can’t persuade you to just let me go? Or untie my hands so I can kill you all with a fireball?” Hawke held her hands forward. 

“No,” Aveline said bluntly. 

Varric shrugged. “I’m sure this is some sort of stunt by the prince to win your affection. Rescuing you from pirates or something like that.” 

The elf’s eyebrows knitted together. “Wouldn’t you telling her that defeat the purpose?” She paused, then appeared to realize something and turned to Hawke. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Merrill.” 

Hawke snorted. “I think you already crossed the line with rudeness when you kidnapped me.” 

Merrill started to reply, but any further conversation was cut off by a sharp jolt of the boat. Varric lost his footing and crashed into the wall, Aveline stumbled but kept her feet, and Merrill slid backwards from her crouched position. Hawke was thrown facefirst into the floor. 

“I think we found land,” Varric said over the chorus of assorted swears and groans. 

“You fucking  _ think _ ?” Hawke grumbled into the floor, her already pounding head hurting even worse. 

“It could just be a really big rock,” Varric said as Aveline hauled him to his feet. 

“Or a whale,” Merrill added as she pulled Hawke up with a considerably greater amount of effort. “Or perhaps a very large fish?” 

As Merrill — with help from Aveline, of course — carried Hawke to the deck, it became clear that Varric was the closest in his guess. In front of the small boat was what looked like a very,  _ very _ tall cliff stretching up into the sky. 

“These are… tall.” Aveline craned her neck upward. 

Varric snorted. “Yeah, they’re called the Cliffs of Insanity. What’d you expect?” 

“Something shorter,” Aveline deadpanned. 

She set Hawke down on the ground. Hawke swayed unsteadily, unable to get her balance with her feet tied. Aveline caught her by the collar before she fell. She lifted Hawke’s arms and pulled them over her head, settling them around her neck. 

“You do realize I can strangle you right now, right?” Hawke said, half joking and half serious. 

Hawke couldn’t see Aveline’s face, but she could feel the glare. Even if she couldn’t, the casual, threatening growl of Aveline’s voice was intimidating enough. “Try it.” 

Hawke didn’t. 

After a minute or so, Hawke spotted the single rope dangling down the cliff side and it became clear what this trio of strange miscreants intended. They wanted to climb the Cliffs of Insanity. Hawke wasn’t familiar with this particular piece of geography, but the fact they were called the Cliffs of Insanity provided enough of a clue. 

“Look, I would never accuse myself of having common sense, but even I know this is probably a bad idea,” Hawke said. 

Varric shrugged as he looked to find a good spot to hold onto Aveline. “So is kidnapping the prince’s fiancée.” 

Aveline had climbed about a quarter of the way up the cliff side, her three passengers in tow, when Merrill turned her head to stare out at the ocean. “Um, Varric?” 

“What is it, Daisy?” Varric didn’t turn, more focused on holding onto Aveline so as not to fall and die. 

“Is there supposed to be a boat following us?” 

That got Varric’s attention. “No, the prince isn’t supposed to be out here for another few hours. Who’s following- oh. Well, shit.” 

Hawke turned to look, the whole group swaying with the motion. “Oh, fuck.” 

She would recognize that ship anywhere. Or rather, its sail. The cloth was painted bright red. There was only one person in the world who painted their ships’ sails red, and even if Hawke had never seen one of those ships herself, she knew exactly whose it was. 

The Raider of the Waking Sea. The pirate that had killed Isabela. 

“They won’t reach us in time,” Aveline said between grunts of effort as she hauled herself up the rope. 

The ship did reach them in time. Much more smoothly than the ship Hawke had been on, it pulled into the shore and docked. A single figure, tiny against the sand, jumped out. They immediately began climbing the rope, following Hawke and her captors up the cliffs. 

Hawke didn’t know why this person was here. But they weren’t working with Varric’s crew, which meant they might help stop them. Hawke would make sure to thank the pirate before she killed them. Even if they did end up saving Hawke from whatever these three assholes were doing, they still worked under the Raider. That meant they had to die. 

“Aveline,” Merrill warned. 

“I know,” Aveline said through gritted teeth. 

Aveline crested the top of the cliff only a few seconds before the pirate would have. In one fluid motion, she pulled herself up onto the top of the cliff and drew her sword to slash the rope she had just climbed. It dropped hundreds of feet to the shore below, taking the pirate with it. 

Or so Hawke thought, at least. 

As the four of them separated themselves (with considerably more effort on Hawke’s part) Merrill looked over the edge of the cliff. “They’re still there.” 

Aveline scowled. “That’s not possible.” 

“They’re just hanging onto the side of the- oh, no, now they’re climbing.” 

“ _ Climbing _ ?” Varric said incredulously. “You can’t climb the Cliffs of Insanity.” 

Aveline stepped over to the cliff’s edge. “Well, apparently you can.” 

“Huh. Looks like Bianca is going to-” 

Aveline held out an arm to stop Varric. “Once the prince’s men get here, they’d find the body and the bolt. I don’t know anyone else anywhere that has a crossbow like yours. You’d be making a trail straight to  _ us _ , which means-” 

“Hang on, didn’t the prince hire you?” Hawke said. 

“His men didn’t,” Merrill said, pointing over the edge of the cliff. “That person probably didn’t either.” 

“Aveline, you got the princess?” Varric asked. 

Aveline slung Hawke over her shoulder again. “Yes. But someone’s going to need to stay behind to hold them-” she nodded at the cliff “-off. We can’t travel fast enough.” 

“I’m guessing I don’t get a say in this,” Hawke said. 

“I can do it,” Merrill said, squaring her shoulders. 

Hawke felt Aveline stiffen and saw Varric’s face tense. “Daisy…” Varric said. 

Merrill smiled. “Don’t worry about me.” She held up a hand, glowing light dancing over her fingers. “I can handle myself.” 

\--- 

“It would be better tactically if they all fought the pirate together,” Cassandra comments. 

“Not everyone can be a master strategist,” Varric replies. “Besides, it’s all for story purposes.” 

\--- 

“Do you want help?” Merrill called down to the pirate climbing the cliff. 

The pirate snorted. “You can’t be serious.” 

“Well, it feels rude to let you keep climbing like that. Doesn’t it make your arms tired?” 

“Oh, not at all. I’m having a grand time.” The pirate reached for a handhold, grunting with effort. 

“There’s still a bit of the rope left up here. I could lower it down for you.” 

The pirate hesitated. “I… That would be nice.” The sentence came out as a half question. 

A few seconds later, Merrill had untied the remaining rope from the rock it had been anchored it on and lowered it down to the pirate’s level. “I promise I won’t drop you. Or I’ll try not to, anyway. As long as you aren’t too heavy. I’m not sure how well I can pull you- oh, nevermind.” 

As Merrill was talking, the pirate had taken hold of the rope and climbed up the rest of the cliff with absolute ease. The pirate was a woman, but not much else about her was obvious. Her face was mostly covered by a black cloth mask tied around it, leaving only her full lips and the small gold piercing underneath them visible. Her clothes were revealing but not overly remarkable or unusual, considering the eccentricity that tended to come with pirates. Aside from the mask, the only odd thing about her clothing was the band of red cloth tied around her upper right arm. 

The pirate cocked her head, looking Merrill over. “You’re awfully polite for a pirate.” 

“Oh, I’m not a pirate,” Merrill said. “Not- not that there’s anything wrong with being a pirate, of course. I mean, I suppose there is, because that’s illegal and all, but I’m sure you’re alright. Except for the fact that you’re following us and trying to kill us, which does make sense, since we did kidnap the princess and all that.” She paused, wincing. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?” 

“Yes, you are, Kitten.” The pirate’s mouth quirked in a smile. “But I’d like to know a little more about this kidnapped princess.” 

Merrill eyed the daggers on the pirate’s back and the few vials of liquid attached to her belt. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about it, really. We weren't given much in the way of details.” 

“Mm, that’s a shame.” The pirate started to walk casually, scuffing her boots against the light dusting of sand on the clifftop. “Unless… Is all this a really elaborate roleplay? Because I have to say, this is impressive. I could have done without all the cliff climbing though. Really did a number on my shoulders.” 

“Uh, no, I’m afraid not.” Merrill tracked the pirate as she walked, keeping careful watch on her movements. 

“Damn. Well, a girl can’t always get what she wants, can she? I don’t suppose you could give me a massage? Or maybe a warm bath?”

“I don’t think there’s a bathtub up here.” 

“Pity. Oh, well.” The pirate finally stopped her pacing, head cocking to the side. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you? Much more so than the usual thug or ruffian, anyway.” 

“I like to think I am.” 

“You’re keeping me talking. You’re trying to stall me.” When Merrill didn’t respond, the pirate continued. “Most people wouldn’t bother with that. They’d go straight to the killing.” 

“I don’t want to kill you.” Merrill’s hands fidgeted nervously. “I don’t know why we were hired to kidnap the princess, but I...” She trailed off. “I think this is something bad.” 

“What, you think I’m all sunshine and good intentions? I’m a pirate, sweet thing.” 

“There are worse people than pirates.” Merrill stopped fidgeting, a flicker of fear passing over her features before it melted into steely resolve. “Promise not to hurt my friends.” 

The pirate smirked. “Or what, Kitten?” 

Merrill’s hands twitched, fire briefly dancing around them. “I’ll have to fight you.” Rocky armor began to creep up her arms, her expression turning equally as stony and determined. 

The pirate’s smile softened. “Alright.” She held up one hand. “I promise. For as much as a pirate’s word is worth.” 

“It’s worth enough,” Merrill said quietly. 

Despite the fact there was no way she could have heard Merrill’s final comment, the pirate gave her a final smile. Then she took off, jogging down the path Aveline and Varric had taken Hawke down. Merrill watched her go, standing tight-lipped and tense until the pirate disappeared into the distance. 

***

“We’re being followed,” Aveline said, shrugging Hawke off her shoulder. 

Varric drew in a breath. “I’m assuming it’s not Merrill.” 

“No.” 

The two of them lapsed into heavy silence. Though neither of them spoke, Hawke knew exactly what they were feeling. She’d felt the same when the Raider of the Waking Seas had taken her love from her years before. Even though Hawke and her two captors were on different sides of this fight, the three of them all held that brief moment of unity. The Raider had taken from them all. 

Aveline drew her sword and bent down to cut the bindings around Hawke’s ankles. “Take her. I’ll deal with the pirate.” 

“You sure?” Varric said. 

Aveline nodded, her jaw clenching. “I’m sure. I’m going to kill them.” 

“Stab ‘em extra for me, will you?” Varric smiled, hollow and sad. 

“Don’t worry.” Aveline took her shield from her back and drew her sword. “I will.” 

And for once, Hawke didn’t make a single wiseass comment. 

***

“Please don’t tell me you’re actually trying to be sneaky. You’re doing a very bad job of it.” 

Aveline’s head whirled around. She’d had her back to the narrow passageway between the boulders of the rock formation she’d been patrolling, and in that time, a person had entered. She was holding two daggers in her hands, a small smirk under the black mask covering half her face. The pirate. The pirate that had killed Merrill. 

“You,” Aveline said, the word coming out more growl than voice. 

“I’ll take that as a no.” 

Aveline charged, making to spear the pirate through the torso with her sword. Before she could, the pirate moved almost impossibly quickly, dodging out of the way and to the side. 

“Your friend was much nicer,” the pirate commented. 

Aveline clenched her teeth and swung the sword again, the pirate dodging the blow almost casually. “Shut up.” 

“You know, she’s the only reason I haven’t already killed you. If it had been you greeting me at the cliff, I would have just murdered my way through this mess.” The pirate sighed, effortlessly stepping away as Aveline tried to strike her with her shield. “Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble. But she was just too sweet to fight, and I would feel bad killing all of you. Ugh, look at me. I’ve gotten soft.” 

Aveline stopped midswing. “Merrill’s alive?” 

“Of course she is.” The pirate twirled her daggers, then gestured at her clothes. “See? No blood.” 

She was right. There was no blood, no sign of any sort of fight at all. Merrill had to be alive. 

“So… I’m guessing you’re still not going to let me waltz on by,” the pirate said. 

“No.” 

The pirate shrugged. “Oh, well. Worth a shot.” 

Aveline charged. The pirate moved; there one second and gone the next. Aveline spun, lashing out with the shield. The pirate slid under it, striking out with the hilt of a dagger to swipe out Aveline’s leg. Aveline kept her balance and swung again with the sword, but once again the pirate was gone before the strike was even close. 

“I’m a rogue, darling,” the pirate drawled from behind Aveline. “If you want to hit me, you’re going to have to be faster.” 

Aveline swung her shield backwards, earning a grunt of pain from the pirate. “Faster like that?” 

She whirled and tried to cut off the pirate’s head, but the pirate ducked down, meeting the sword with two crossed daggers. She tried to kick Aveline’s feet out from under her, but the pirate was nowhere near strong enough to knock a woman like Aveline down. With the pirate preoccupied, Aveline took the opportunity to use her sword and shield to twist one of the pirate’s daggers out of her hand and throw it to the side. 

The pirate backed away, keeping out of reach of Aveline’s weapons. “Impressive. Where’d you learn?” 

“I was a guard in Kirkwall.” 

“Was?” 

Aveline slashed at the pirate again, getting closer now that she had a better handle on the other woman’s speed. “The prince had me fired.” 

“Really?” The pirate snorted. “His loss.” 

Aveline grinned despite herself. “Indeed it was.” The smile turned downward as she recalled who she was fighting. “You’re trying to charm me.” 

The pirate spread her arms, matching Aveline’s previous grin. “You have to admit I have a lot of charm. Both my wits and my… everything else.” 

“You’re a criminal.” Aveline charged with her shield, trying to ram the pirate off her feet. “You’re a pirate. I’m supposed to stop people like you.” 

“And yet you’re kidnapping the princess.” 

Aveline scowled. “That’s different.” 

“Is it?” 

“Yes.” 

The pirate shrugged, dodging another swing from Aveline with a sideways roll that gave her the time to pick up her second dagger. “It really isn’t.” 

Aveline would have replied, said something aggressive and likely insulting, but she didn’t get the chance. The pirate rushed her, slashing at her face with one dagger. Aveline brought her shield up to block the blow, gritting her teeth against both the force and the screech of steel against steel. The pirate dropped, sliding underneath Aveline and standing up behind her. Aveline didn’t go down with the first hit over her head with a dagger, but the kick to the back of her knee and a hit with the second dagger sent her falling. Her shield clanged loudly against the stony ground.

The pirate stood over her, watching for a moment. When it became clear that Aveline was indeed unconscious, the pirate sheathed her daggers with a final showy twirl. “Huh. Maybe the whole not killing thing isn’t so bad.” 

\---

“Now, I know Aveline wouldn’t go down like that,” Varric says, holding up a hand. “Did I tell you about the time she singlehandedly killed a Revenant after everyone else got beat to shit?” 

Cassandra furrows her brow. “Then why-” 

“Story purposes, Seeker,” Varric says. “Story purposes.” 

\--- 

“Hey, Varric?” 

“Yeah, princess?” 

“I hate to be helping my kidnapper and all that shit, but it looks like the pirate’s still following us.” 

Varric scowled. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” 

“Unfortunately, no. Well, maybe not unfortunately for me, but definitely unfortunately for you.” Hawke held out her hands. “Although you could untie me. Maybe make it a little less unfortunate for you.” 

“No thanks. I prefer not being on fire.” 

“That’s fair.” 

The two of them stopped at what looked like a small picnic table in a field. 

\---

“A… what?” 

Varric shrugs. “You know I’ve never been good with scenery.” 

“Oh, I know.” 

\--- 

The pirate was unbothered as she approached the table, even as Varric pointed his crossbow at her. She stopped, lifting an eyebrow. 

“What do you plan to do with that?” she said. 

“You  _ do _ know what a crossbow is, right? Generally, you use them for shooting people.” 

“And generally you use ears-” she tapped her own “-to overhear conversations about how said crossbow can’t be used because it would leave evidence.” 

Hawke snorted. “Nice.” 

“I didn’t kill your friends, if that’s what you’re worried about,” the pirate said. “Your human battering ram was  _ really _ pissed. Almost took my head off.” 

“Ah, well, that’s good. That means I don’t have to take  _ your _ head off,” Varric said, lowering the crossbow. 

“Can you even reach my head?” 

“Low blow, pirate.” 

“Everything is with you, dwarf.” 

Varric gave her an exaggerated scowl before settling back on the bench. “Alright. Let’s make a deal. Clearly you want something with the princess here, but I’d also like to finish my job.” He took a deck of cards from a pocket and began to spread them out on the table. “How about a game of Wicked Grace, one rogue against another?”

Hawke rolled her eyes but didn’t comment. 

The pirate, meanwhile, looked between Hawke and Varric for a moment, then weighed one of the vials on her belt in her hand. After a second of deliberation, she unattached it, bounced it once into the air, and threw it straight at the table. It shattered, releasing a cloud of white mist. Varric caught the worst of it, coughing and slumping to the side, knocked out. Hawke dived to the side, avoiding the worst of the mist. 

“Ugh, fuck!” she shouted indignantly, coughing. 

“You’re welcome!” the pirate called, waiting for the mist to clear before she stepped forward to pull Hawke to her feet. 

Hawke held out her hands. “Untie me,” she said, more a command than a request. 

“No need to be rude about it,” the pirate said, drawing a dagger. “Although… I suppose I don’t mind. Maybe just wait until I’m undressed first.” 

Hawke tightened her jaw, waiting for the pirate to cut her bindings. As soon as she was free, Hawke looked up at the pirate. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then shoved the pirate backwards. Hawke’s face melted into a snarl and her hands ignited into flame. 

“You’re the Raider of the Waking Sea,” Hawke said. 

“Ah, I was wondering when someone would notice. Do you think I should get a hat to make it more obvious? I think I’d look good with a hat.” 

Hawke didn’t laugh. “Do you remember Isabela?” she said, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire in her hands. 

“Isabela,” the pirate repeated. 

“Isabela,” Hawke said. “The most wonderful woman I’ve ever known. The only woman I’ve ever loved. The woman who was afraid of being loved, who thought she would leave me whenever she wanted, who never considered someone would care for her like I did. Like I  _ do _ . The woman who stayed with me through everything, who helped me through everything, who tried to save my home. The woman who  _ you killed _ .” 

“Well, obviously you couldn’t have cared that much.” The usual sultry calmness of the pirate’s voice was gone, replaced with nothing but cold. “That ass of a prince got engaged to you easily enough. For all your talk about true love and whatever bullshit, you sure moved on quickly.” 

Hawke laughed, ragged and furious. “You think I  _ love _ him?” 

“You certainly decided he was good enough to marry.” 

“He forced me! Ever since you killed Isabela, I haven’t been able to make a single choice for myself.” The fire cast her face in a violent warm glow as it spread farther up her arms. “But I can choose to kill you now.” 

“You still care about Isabela enough to kill me for her?” the pirate asked. 

Hawke nodded grimly. “Always.” 

The pirate sighed, then reached up a hand. She pulled off the mask. 

Hawke blinked. The fire dimmed. Faded. Extinguished. Her mouth dropped slightly open, her hands falling limply to her sides. 

When she spoke, her voice came out barely above a whisper. “Isabela?” 

\---

Cassandra gasps delightedly. “I  _ knew _ it!” 

“Did you?” 

“Isabela is a pirate, Varric. You made it rather obvious.” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.” 

\---

“Hey, Hawke.” Isabela’s smile was not snide or cunning any longer, but gentle, soft, on the verge of breaking. “Been awhile, hasn’t it?” 

Hawke stood staring for another few seconds, then charged forward, nearly knocking Isabela to the ground in a tight hug. “Isabela,” she said again, repeating the name to ensure herself that yes, this was real, Isabela was there, alive. 

“I’m here,” Isabela said, her voice still soft. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” There wasn’t anything added. No ‘it’s okay, I forgive you’ because that wouldn’t be precisely true, but it didn’t matter because Isabela was there and real and alive. “I know.” 

They held each other for a long time. Neither of them was ever good with the emotional stuff, but that hardly mattered. Each knew what the other was going to say, what they needed to say. 

Eventually, Hawke pulled away. “How are you-” 

Isabela cut her off by putting a finger to her lips and pointing up in the air. With neither of them talking, the sound of hoofbeats carrying through the air became clear. “Later,” she said. 

“Good idea. I’m betting that’s my favorite asshole prince out her looking for me. He probably won’t take kindly to a pirate wandering around with his fiancée.” 

Isabela grinned. “I think I might have an idea of where to go.” 

Isabela led Hawke through the rough terrain of Starkhaven. The horses drew closer, but Hawke and Isabela reached their destination before they could be caught. That destination was a cave at one end of a valley, dark and imposing, vines choking the entrance. 

“Where are we going, exactly?” Hawke said. 

“The Fire Swamp,” Isabela said, using her daggers to cut enough of the vines away for the two of them to enter. “The most dangerous place in the world, where many enter but no one leaves. There’s no way the prince will follow us.” She turned to Hawke. “You up for it?” 

Hawke grinned. “As if I’d pass up the chance to get into trouble.” 

Isabela turned back, soft smile on her face. “It’s good to have you back, Hawke.” 

“I don’t know what you did without me. Who else would join you in doing stupid bullshit?” 

“Oh, you’d be surprised. But I’ve never come across anyone quite as willing as you. Speaking of…” Isabela gestured at the remaining vines. “You mind?” 

Hawke conjured her flames and raised her hands. “You might want to step out of the way.” 

Isabela stepped to the side as Hawke unleashed a ball of fire, scorching away the vines completely. A wide smile lit up her face. “Fuck, I’ve been waiting to do that for a long time.” 

“I’ve been waiting to see that for a long time,” Isabela said. “Have I ever told you that you’re hot when you do that?” 

Hawke sighed. “The pun and the flirting only work the first time you say it, Isabela.” 

“Mm, I think that blush is saying otherwise.” Isabela sauntered ahead into the mouth of the cave. “Come along now, the Fire Swamp awaits.” 

Hawke followed behind her. “Ugh, who named these places? The Cliffs of Insanity? The Fire Swamp?” 

Isabela shrugged. “At least they’re simple enough to remember. What’d royal asshat name his castle again?” 

“Something too long and pretentious to bother remembering.” 

“I think that describes everything about him.” Isabela paused, then smirked. “Well, maybe not everything.” 

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had the pleasure of checking, but that was probably because I threatened to burn his dick off if he touched me.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

The two of them trudged through the dark mud of the Fire Swamp for a few minutes before Isabela stopped and held out an arm. She tilted her head, looking down at the ground. Then she pulled a stick from a nearby tree root and dropped it. The patch of sand it fell on greedily sucked it in, leaving no trace of it as it settled back to looking like just a patch of sand. 

“We should probably avoid those,” Hawke said. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to be swallowed by a quicksand pit.” Isabela continued forward around the sand, then gestured off to her right. “Also, I think there’s one of those other things over there.” 

As soon as Hawke said “What things?” a jet of fire spurted from the ground, easily as high as Hawke was tall. 

“Those things.” 

Hawke looked at the spot on the ground the flame had come from and pointedly stepped around it as she followed Isabela. “I guess that’s probably why it’s called the Fire Swamp. Ugh, is all of this place either gross or dangerous?” 

“Yes. Well, some of it’s both, if you believe that the Spiders of Unusual Size exist.” 

Hawke stopped in her tracks. “You’re not serious.” 

Isabela grinned. “Oh, surely you aren’t scared of a little spider.” 

Hawke scowled. “The ‘of unusual size’ bit implies they’re not little.” 

“Aw, don’t worry, Hawke. You’ve got the Raider of the Waking Sea to protect you from the scary spiders.” 

Hawke gingerly stepped over another patch of quicksand. “Well, now that you mention that, I think it’s time I got an explanation.” 

Isabela cocked her head, then flung out an arm to stop Hawke from walking into another column of flame that shot from the ground. “You know how I like to solve problems with my daggers?” She twirled one of the daggers in question. 

“How could I not? I’ve been poked by plenty of them.” 

“Well, when the Raider captured my ship, his crew didn’t notice the hidden ones when they took everyone’s weapons. So as the Raider was killing the rest of my crew, I decided to use one of those knives to solve the problem.” Isabela slashed through a thick vine in her path. “Apparently, the Raider I killed wasn’t the first. When the first mate gave me the captain’s hat, she told me that all the Raiders — seven of them by now — have become the Raider by killing the last one.” 

“Hm.” Hawke looked Isabela over. “Where’s the hat?” 

“I was going for subtlety. You know, the mask and everything. I’m told beautiful women like an air of mystery.” Isabela laughed when Hawke playfully punched her shoulder. “Or maybe I lost it when I was climbing up the tallest cliff in the entire damn world.” 

“Guess that’s fair.” Hawke burned away a particularly thick segment of vine. “Where are we going, anyway?” 

“The other side of the Fire Swamp, which will put us out somewhere near the coast. The prince and his cronies won’t follow us through here, and they’re going to think we died in here. We’ll be on the open seas in no time.” 

“As long as we don’t get killed by a giant spider,” Hawke said. 

“Please. Do you really expect that you and I will get taken out by a- oh, shit!” Isabela went down, frantically swinging her daggers, as a horse-sized spider jumped on top of her. 

“I fucking told you!” Hawke said, throwing up a wall of ice to stop a couple more spiders from launching themselves at Isabela. “There’s a pretty good reason I’m afraid of spiders, Isabela! It’s because sometimes they’re of unusual size or whatever Makerdamned bullshit this is!” 

Isabela threw a dagger into the head of an approaching spider. “Like you didn’t miss this. You and me fighting murderous creatures together.” 

Hawke shot a bolt of electricity upward that arced between five spiders hanging from the ceiling. “I’d rather it be any other murderous creature.” 

“Suit yourself.” 

Between the two of them, Hawke and Isabela managed to dispatch the Spiders of Unusual Size with relative ease. Hawke picked bits of exoskeleton off her clothes, grimacing in disgust. Grinning deviously, Isabela moved over and wiped the green blood from her daggers off on Hawke’s clothes. 

Hawke frowned. “Seriously?” 

“A pirate has to keep up her appearance and spider blood doesn’t match the rest of my getup.” 

“Human blood doesn’t match either.” Hawke waved a hand and a wound on Isabela’s shoulder from the spider’s fangs knitted back together. “Better hope that thing wasn’t venomous.” 

Isabela paused for a few seconds, then shrugged. “With the size of the thing, I’d probably already be dead.” 

“Good. I’m not exactly emotionally stable enough to deal with you dying for a second time.” There was an uncomfortable silence. “I’m glad to have you back, Isabela. I just wish…” 

Isabela reached out to take Hawke’s hand and brush her thumb across it. “I know.” 

A moment passed, the silence comfortable now. Understanding. Forgiving. Circumstances are often beyond the control of those affected by them, and Hawke and Isabela’s situation was no different. They had to learn to live with it, to deal with it, to let it go. 

But first, they had to get out of the Fire Swamp. 

“Well, as much as I’d like to stay here, I think we should get going,” Isabela said, letting go of Hawke’s hand and starting on her way again. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I like the ambiance; the fire, the vines, the dead spiders.” 

“You’re going to like the ambiance of the captain’s quarters even more.” 

Hawke snorted and followed behind Isabela, flinging one hand behind her to throw a fireball and burn away the husks of the dead spiders. “Good fucking riddance.” 

The rest of the Fire Swamp was an easy trek. The vines thinned out and the spiders appeared to have decided to all attack at once. Even the quicksand and the flame spurts began to go away. Finally, the two of them emerged from the other side of the Fire Swamp relatively unharmed. The forest around them was dense, but it seemed peaceful enough. 

Isabela looked up at the sun. “Afternoon. The coast is to the west, not far from here. We can make it to…” She trailed off as horses and their riders emerged from the trees. “Fuck me.” 

“Hello, princess,” the prince said, his horse stepping forward to the woman in question. “I’m so glad we found you in time.” 

Bartrand’s horse moved in beside him as soldiers also on horseback slowly encircled them. “We were so worried. For Starkhaven to make such a bold move, using a notorious pirate, no less.” 

“Cut the bullshit,” Hawke snapped. 

The prince smiled, both polite and vicious. “There is no bullshit. Unless, of course, you’re referring to the pirate you’re consorting with. The Raider of the Waking Sea. My only honorable choice is to kill her to rescue my love, but you seem to have allied yourself with her. It would be a shame if word of that got out.” 

“It would be a shame if I burned your ass to a crisp right now.” 

“That’s still treason, princess,” Bartrand said. “And if you’re too far away for our justice to reach you, then your brother will have to suffice.” 

Hawke’s jaw tightened, but she stayed silent. 

“Just say the word,” Isabela said under her breath. 

Hawke shook her head. “If I go back with you, will you let her go?” 

The prince smiled. “Of course, my love.” He gestured Bartrand forward. “Take my fiancée back to our ship. I’ll follow shortly. I’d like to give the Raider of the Waking Sea a careful escort back to her ship.” 

“Hawke,” Isabela hissed. 

“I’ll be fine, Isabela. I can deal with this.” She reached out and took Isabela’s hand. “I can’t lose you again.” 

“So you’re going to go back with  _ him _ ?” 

Hawke smiled. “Let me save you this time.” 

“You’re not going to get rid of me that easily, Hawke. Dammit, I-” 

“Please, ‘Bela. I want you to be safe. I won’t lose you again.” 

Isabela leaned forward, briefly pressing her lips to Hawke’s. When she drew away just an inch or two, she whispered “I’ll come back for you.” 

“I know you will. I’m counting on it this time,” Hawke whispered back before she drew away, pulling herself up onto Bartrand’s horse. “See her back to her ship. I’m sure I don’t have to go through all my threats again for you to know what will happen if you don’t.” 

“Of course.” The prince bowed his head, almost the picture of honesty. 

Before Hawke had the chance to say anything else, Bartrand kicked his horse and the two of them rode forward. A small accompaniment of soldiers followed. Isabela crossed her arms and looked to the prince. 

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be going to my ship. I don’t need an escort.” 

“I’m afraid you won’t be going to your ship,” the prince said, glee in his voice instead of remorse. 

Isabela sighed. “Well, I can't say that’s entirely unexpected. “Let’s just get on with the killing then, shall we?” 

She drew her daggers, flipping one in her hand. She readied to throw it straight into the prince’s chest. She was ready to end this. 

Instead, she was promptly hit over the head from behind by one of the prince’s soldiers. She slumped to the ground, unconscious. The soldier looked briefly terrified, thinking he’d done the wrong thing, but he relaxed when the prince gave him a nod. 

“Take her to the Pit of Despair,” the prince said. “Tell no one. Especially the princess.” 

\---

“But Isabela and Hawke only just reunited!” Cassandra says. “They can’t be separated so soon!” 

“You know I love a good tragedy, Seeker.” 

\--- 

Hawke was in the castle for nearly a week before the screaming began. She knew exactly what the sound was and exactly why it was happening. Isabela was dying because Hawke had figured out that the prince hadn’t let her leave. She was dying because Hawke had thought she’d be able to fix things. She was dying because of Hawke, and Hawke couldn’t do anything to help. She was stuck, waiting to be married to a prince she hated so he could have more power to wield. 

So Hawke had tried to kill the prince. Almost succeeded. She hadn’t anticipated the templars the prince kept around for this very purpose. His captain, Meredith, had been waiting for Hawke to make an attempt on the prince’s life and snuffed out her magic before she could kill him. 

Hawke had been locked in her room under heavy guard. A constant buzz of activity from servants and tailors made it clear that the prince had decided to hold the wedding earlier, to get it out of the way. To finalize the marriage, no doubt to be able to dispose of Hawke sooner. 

Hawke was powerless. There was nothing she could do. She had no weapons, no chance to stop anything. Isabela was dead and Hawke was next. Absolutely nothing was going to change that. 

Little did Hawke know, however, was that there were other people out there on her side. They weren’t exactly the people she would have expected. 

***

“I know where I’m going,” Aveline grumbled as she trudged through the woods. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Varric muttered. 

“Would you rather have Merrill lead us?” Aveline snapped back. 

“Oh, I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” Merrill said. “I get lost far too often.” After a brief lull in the conversation, she added “What is it that we’re actually looking for?” 

“The Pit of Despair,” Varric said, pitching his voice dramatically but still managing to sound disgruntled about it. “The prison to put the worst offenders in Kirkwall, the prince’s private torture chamber, a place of eternal torment, et cetera, et cetera.” 

“We’re close. It’s hidden somewhere in this area of the forest. We just have to find it,” Aveline said. 

“Which would be easier if we knew what it looked like. Maybe we could ask the guard. Oh, wait, you knocked him out, so sadly that’s not possible.” 

“He thought I was bluffing.” 

Varric rolled his eyes. “You’re  _ supposed _ to bluff, Aveline. Kind of hard for people to give you information when they’re unconscious.” 

“He wouldn’t have given us anything anyway. If he didn’t buckle under my threats, nothing was going to work.” 

“Look, I’m not going to say you’re not intimidating — since I’m pretty sure you could throw me all the way back into town with one arm — but I’ve found that a crossbow bolt through the shoulder can be pretty convincing.” 

Aveline suddenly stopped in her tracks, ending her bickering with Varric when she noticed Merrill had been awfully quiet. Merrill was standing about twenty paces behind Varric and Aveline, intently inspecting a tree. 

“This isn’t the time for forest frolicking, Daisy,” Varric called as he and Aveline walked back toward Merrill. 

Merrill frowned at the tree. “This tree isn’t… right.” She squinted closely at the bark. “This species isn’t native to this area and it can’t survive in this climate. And the texture looks wrong, almost like it’s…” 

She trailed off, tilting her head back and forth. Varric and Aveline reached the tree, which to them, appeared to be just another tree. Slowly, Merrill reached out and knocked on the tree’s trunk. The sound bounced and echoed. 

“It’s hollow,” Merrill stated. “It’s fake.” 

“Must be the entrance to the Pit of Despair,” Varric said. 

“There should be a mechanism somewhere. Some way to open it.” Aveline glared at the tree, still unable to discern anything useful about it. 

As Aveline and Varric inspected the tree, Merrill lifted one hand, waving her fingers until her entire arm was covered in stone. Then, without hesitation, she slammed her fist through the tree. An entire side of the bark crumbled, raining down splinters on the three people standing below it. The whole thing groaned but didn’t fall. As the dust cleared, the stairs leading down from the new hole in the tree became visible. 

“Does that work for a secret entrance?” Merrill’s voice was as innocently curious as ever, but she wore a slightly devious smile across her face as she wiggled her fingers to clear the stone away. 

“Entrance? Yes. Secret? Not so much,” Varric said as he started down the steps. “Watch for that third stair, by the way. It’s a trap.” 

Merrill and Aveline both took great care to not touch the third step. 

“I wish someone would put a secret dungeon somewhere nice for once,” Merrill chirped, fidgeting nervously as they descended and the light from above faded. 

Aveline grunted in agreement. “I could do with a beachside dungeon.” 

“Or a treehouse dungeon,” Merrill added. “I think anything not below ground would be nice.” 

“This is kind of a treehouse dungeon. Although the below ground factor definitely knocks some points off. Maybe if…” Varric stopped midsentence as he stepped down from the last stair, peering ahead into the Pit of Despair. “Shit.” 

The Pit of Despair had definitely warranted its name. It appeared to be filled with all sorts of torture devices scattered all about the chamber, illuminated dimly by dwindling torches. In the very center was some horrible looking, unrecognizable machine. And on that machine, unmoving and deathly still, was the pirate. 

“Oh,” Merrill said, her voice small. “Is… is she…” 

Aveline marched forward, putting her fingers on the pirate’s neck to check for a pulse. After a moment, she nodded grimly. “Dead.” 

\--- 

“What? Dead? That- that doesn’t make sense!” Cassandra throws her slightly less injured arm in the air. “You can’t end the story like that!” 

“Who says I’m ending it?” Varric says. “Just keep listening.” 

\---

“Are you sure you don’t need help, Aveline?” Merrill said. 

Aveline continued plodding forward, the pirate’s dead body slung over her shoulder. “No. I’m fine.” 

“You two coming?” Varric shouted, much farther ahead on the path. 

“Yes, Varric,” Aveline shouted back, scowling. 

“We shouldn’t be too far away,” Merril reassured. “At least, I wouldn’t think so. It wouldn’t make sense to put a healer’s hut that far out into the forest.” 

Merrill was right. After a few more minutes of walking through the woods, they came across what looked like a large cottage. Written above the door in neat blue paint was ‘Miracle Worker.’ At the end of ‘Worker,’ someone had hastily added on an ‘s’ surrounded by parentheses. 

“Oh, Maker,” Aveline mumbled. “Can’t we use some  _ normal _ necromancy?” 

“Both of them owe me a favor,” Varric replied. “Besides, do you want to have to wander around carrying a corpse until we find someone else who can raise the dead?” 

Aveline sighed and pushed past Varric to enter the cottage. “Anders? Fenris? We have a dead body.” 

Merrill paused outside the door for a moment. “That isn’t normally how you’re supposed to greet people, is it?” 

“It is if you’re these two,” Varric said, following behind Merrill. 

“Oh, do you?” said a human man, emerging from a side room, yawning and running his fingers through his blond hair. “That’s wonderful. Always loved the whole ‘raising the dead’ bit.” Irritated sarcasm lined his voice as he settled into a chair at the table in the center of the room. 

“But you  _ do _ raise the dead,” Aveline said pointedly, laying the pirate’s body down on the table. 

“Well, it’s not me that does it, technically. I just handle all the boring magic. You know, curing diseases, mending injuries, talking to spirits, doing  _ actual _ magic.” 

“I feel like raising the dead is probably magic,” Merrill said. “I mean, if you could do it normally, people would just be raising the dead all the time. I suppose they used to, with those people that used to make armies of corpses and such, but those were mages. And they put demons in the corpses.” She frowned. “You probably shouldn’t put a demon in her.” 

“Don’t worry, Daisy,” Varric said, settling in another chair. “Anders doesn’t work with demons.” 

Anders scowled. “Depends on your definition of demon.” 

Aveline snorted. “I see that you’re not any fonder of Fenris than last time I visited.” 

“I’m not.” Anders glared at Varric. “The only reason I have to keep working with him is because  _ someone _ told the whole country that he and I could raise the dead.” 

Varric shrugged. “What can I say? It makes a good story.” 

“I’m sure,” Anders deadpanned, starting to look the pirate over. “You didn’t tell me I’d be raising the Raider of the Waking Sea from the dead.” 

“We didn’t tell you we’d be coming at all,” Merrill said, then after a pause added “Wait,  _ that’s _ who she is? You know her?” 

“Yeah. She stopped by with her crew once. Her name’s Isabela. Captain Isabela, as she would have it.” Anders frowned. “Never thought I’d be seeing her corpse.” 

Aveline, always one to get to business, looked down at Anders, refusing to take a chair. “Can you bring her back?” 

Anders sighed. “She’s too far gone for healing magic. You have to be  _ slightly _ dead for that, not  _ mostly _ dead.” 

“But you  _ can _ fix her,” Varric prompted. 

Anders leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling. “I can, if I have… help.” 

“I can help,” Merrill offered. “I’m a mage.” 

“Different kind of help,” Anders said, pushing himself up off his chair. “I’ll send up a signal.” He gave Varric a pointed look. “You’re going to owe me one.” 

Varric reclined in his chair, hands behind his neck, smirk across his face. “The outcome of our last game of Wicked Grace says the opposite, Blondie.” 

“And who do you think has been keeping the prince from knocking down your door?” Aveline added, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword. 

Anders scowled. “Point taken.” As he opened the front door, he turned back. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He slammed the door, sending a fair amount of dust raining down from the boards of the floor above. 

“He’s awfully grumpy,” Merrill said. “Are all necromancers this grumpy?” 

“Technically he’s not a necromancer,” Varric said. “Just a healer.” 

Merrill cocked her head, squinting. “You can’t heal someone who’s dead.” 

“You can if you manually restart their organs,” Aveline said. “Which Fenris does.” 

“So technically he’s not a necromancer either, since it’s not magic. He’s just…” Varric paused a moment to consider. “Weird.” 

Merrill smiled. “He’d fit in with the rest of us, then.” 

“What’s so weird about us?” Varric said, grinning. “A tiny elven blood mage, an intimidating and overly capable human battering ram, and a dwarf with no beard and a fondness for telling stories? Seems perfectly normal to me.” 

Aveline snorted. “It sounds like the start of a bad joke.” 

“Remind me to tell it the next time we’re in a bar.” 

Before the three of them could dive more into the subjects of relative weirdness and bad jokes, the door slammed back open. Anders stalked back inside, looking even more irritated than he had when he’d gone out. Behind him was an elven man who somehow, impossible, looked even more pissed off. The tension brought temporary silence as the two men walked to the table, looking at the body. 

After a moment, the elf looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Aveline. I didn’t expect you to need this type of business.” 

“I didn’t either, Fenris.” Aveline sighed. “It’s been a long week.” 

“Clearly.” 

“Um, so, are you going to do the thing where you breathe into her mouth?” Merrill asked. “Because I think she might be a little too dead for that. Or…” She leaned forward to inspect Fenris’s swirling tattoos. “Is that lyrium?” 

Fenris flinched back, looking uncomfortable. “Yes,” he said, offering no additional explanation.

Anders sighed, waving a hand. “Just get it over with.” 

Varric gently pulled Merrill back a couple steps. “You probably don’t want to be close for this.”

Merrill’s brow furrowed. “Wh-” 

Her question was interrupted by Fenris beginning to glow blue before he unceremoniously shoved his hand through Isabela’s chest. Anders wrinkled his nose, but didn’t look overly concerned. Fenris rooted around Isabela’s insides for a few seconds, then seemed to find what he was looking for. He quickly pulled out his hand, leaving no visible wound on the body as his glow extinguished and he stepped away. Anders raised his hands over Isabela’s body, closed his eyes, and hit her with two bolts of magic. 

Isabela sat bolt upright, gasping for air. Even Varric and Aveline, who had seen this before, instinctively jumped. Anders sighed, slumping with exhaustion. Fenris continued to look unimpressed. 

“Mother _ fucker _ !” Isabela shouted, one hand pressed to her chest. 

“Welcome back to the mortal coil, Isabela,” Varric said. 

She blinked rapidly. “Wait, how do you know my- What’s…” She reached for her daggers, which were absent. “You want to kill me? Or is this just some elaborate roleplay thing?” 

“You were dead for a while,” Aveline said. “We brought you back.” 

“Technically I did that,” Anders said. 

“If you want to be technical, I was the one who restarted her heart.” Fenris didn’t even look up to see Anders’s sour glare. 

Isabela sighed, slouching. “It’s never an elaborate roleplay.” She paused, thinking. “Hang on, it was that bastard prince, wasn’t it? Where’s Hawke? What did you do with her?” She tried to leap up from the table, but only succeeded in clumsily falling off it. 

Aveline hauled Isabela upright, supporting her on one shoulder. “We didn’t do anything.” 

“We brought you back to save her,” Merrill said. 

Varric rocked a hand back and forth. “Well, we mostly brought you back to murder the prince and my bastard brother, but yeah, that too.” 

“There’s a worthy cause,” Fenris said. 

“Oh, I’ll kill him alright.” Isabela tried to make a show of cracking her knuckles, but could barely lift her hands properly. “Why can’t I move?” 

“You were dead,” Aveline repeated. 

“Probably in the first stages of decay,” Merrill added, counting on her fingers. “You were probably dead for… about six hours, and with the state you were in, I wouldn’t be surprised if rigor mortis had started early, so-” 

Isabela cut her off with a disgusted groan. “Look, Kitten, not saying that isn’t fascinating, but I’m not exactly in the mood to hear what my corpse was doing.” 

“The state she was in?” Anders asked. 

Merrill nodded. “The prince built some weird torture thing. It was kind of fascinating really, it was made to-” 

“Okay!” Varric interrupted. “I think we’ll be going now. You two coming with us?” 

“No,” Fenris and Anders answered at the same time before scowling at each other. 

“If you’re staging some sort of coup at the castle, there’s going to be fights between the guards and the townspeople. I need to be here to help heal anyone who needs me,” Anders said. 

“I’m escorting people to the port so they can get out of this city. Carver Hawke is among them, if I recall correctly,” Fenris said, glancing to Varric with a raised eyebrow. 

“I forgot about that whole ‘threatening to kill the brother’ problem,” Varric admitted. “Probably a good thing you’re taking care of it.” 

“Ah, so no backup.” Isabela looked at all the people in the room. “I expect you probably don’t have a plan.” 

“Storm the castle,” Aveline said. 

“Rescue the princess,” Merrill said. 

Varric grinned. “Kill a prince and his advisor and have fun doing it! Seems pretty foolproof to me.” 

“Yes, well, good luck,” Fenris said, folding his arms. “It seems like that will work out perfectly.” 

“Come on, Broody, when has one of my plans ever gone wrong?” Varric spread his arms theatrically. 

There was a long, long moment of silence. Varric slowly lowered his arms as every other person in the cottage turned to look at him. 

Anders was the one to break the silence. “I can name a few times.” 

“More than a few,” Aveline deadpanned. 

“I can give you a list.” Merrill’s tone was bright and innocent as ever, though the sly grin across her face was anything but. 

“I was the one who ruined your plan last time I saw you,” Isabela said. “So that’s at least one, and I’ve only seen you twice in my life.” 

Varric shrugged it off. “It’ll be fine. Now, let’s get going. We have a wedding to stop.” 

As Varric and Merrill walked out of the cottage, Aveline carrying Isabela behind them, Anders called out “Please try not to die anymore.” 

Fenris, temporarily ignoring the animosity between the two of them, glanced over at Anders. “Do you really expect them to be able to do that?” 

“Not at all.” Anders paused, then scowled. “I didn’t say you could stay here.” 

Fenris walked to the door, adjusting the massive sword on his back. “I wasn’t planning on it.” 

\---

“Why would Anders and Fenris not go with them?” Cassandra asks. “Wouldn’t they want to go kill the prince as well?” 

“Oh, definitely.” Varric clears his throat. “But do you have any idea how hard Fenris’s voice is to do? I’m not going to be able to talk for weeks.” 

Cassandra smirks. “And whatever would you do if that happened?” 

“I don’t know. Cease to exist, probably. Or just fall into a deep despair that only you dramatically reading my shitty romance serials aloud could cure.” 

Cassandra’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“I’d dare to do a lot of things, Seeker, especially if you keep interrupting me. Now, let’s see, where was I…” 

\--- 

“You know, it was real sweet of all of you to bring me back from the dead, but I don’t think this is going to work.”

“Yes, it certainly seems that this isn’t one of our best plans.” Aveline shot a pointed look at Varric, shifting Isabela’s weight. 

“Why don’t we just wait until after the wedding? As in, when I can move my body and there’ll be fewer guards.” Isabela grunted in pain. “Your… shoulder thingies are sharp, lady.” 

“They’re pauldrons.” 

“That’s what I said. But, again, why don’t we wait?” 

“Uh…” Varric said. “About that…” 

“The prince is killing the princess after the wedding,” Merrill said. “He’s going to blame it on assassins from Starkhaven and then the king and queen will have to start a war, and then he’ll kill the king and queen.” 

“Ah,” Isabela said. “So, I’m assuming none of you has a brilliant plan.” 

“We were hoping you’d make one,” Merrill said as she peeked over the edge of the wall. 

Isabela paused. She squinted her eyes, furrowed her brows, and thought. And then she had an idea. 

“How good are all of you at lying?” 

As it turned out, good enough to sneak into the castle. 

Varric took the front once they reached the servant’s door. “We’re all very sorry for the short notice, but we heard that no one was here to make the wedding cake.” 

The guard managing the door fidgeted nervously. “I was told not to let anyone in.” 

“We have special permission from the prince. He sent us a messenger to tell us. What kind of royal wedding would it be without cake?” 

The guard looked the four people in front of her up and down. “You don’t look much like bakers.” 

“Well, us two over here-” Varric gestured to himself and Aveline “-are technically the only bakers. The other two are here to frost it and make sure it turns out looking okay.” 

The guard still looked skeptical. “I’m sorry, I can’t-” 

“Do you know how much trouble you’d get in for refusing bakers offering to provide an important wedding service?” Isabela swayed dangerously as she tried to look like she was standing on her own. “You’d be lucky if you only lost your job. I’ve heard that a lot of guards have been losing… more important things.” 

The guard swallowed. She said nothing. There had been a great number of guards that had gone missing or been executed as of late. 

“Listen, if you let us in, we’ll make sure to talk to the prince. You’ll get a promotion, I’d wager,” Varric said. 

The guard hesitated, then sighed. “Alright. Just leave your weapons with the guard stationed inside, please.” She stepped to the side and pushed open the door. 

Varric smiled courteously. “You have our eternal gratitude.” 

Isabela rolled her eyes, but said nothing. 

As the four of them filed through the door, a second guard stepped up to them. He appeared tired and bored as he asked “Turn over your weapons, please.” 

Merrill looked left, then right, then down the hallway in front. Then she wiggled her fingers, magically covered her fists with rocks, and punched the guard square in the jaw. He spun and went down without a sound. The other three stared at Merrill incredulously. 

“What?” she said, sounding indignant. “He’s fine. Probably.” She glanced down at the guard, scrunching her nose. “Maybe? He’s… alive.” 

“Let’s keep moving,” Aveline said. “Varric, you go after Bartrand. Merrill, you and I will go for Meredith. Isabela, I’ll drop you off in the prince’s room. You can ambush him there.” 

“Yes. Brilliant idea. Leave the person who can’t move to take care of the most important task,” Isabela grumbled. 

“Hawke should help. Once Meredith is dealt with, she should be able to use her magic.” 

Isabela grinned. “Oh, yes, she will. I think she’s gone too long without burning someone to death.” 

*** 

The wedding was over in less than ten minutes. The prince was fidgeting the whole way through. Half the guards left before the priestess had gotten through the first few lines of her spiel. Even Bartrand left, clearly going to deal with whatever problem was causing the commotion in the castle’s hallways. 

“Aren’t you going to go deal with that,  _ darling _ ?” Hawke said through clenched teeth. “I’d hate for you to stand by while someone ruined our wedding. Of course, I’d deal with it, but…” She nodded at Meredith, standing off to the side. 

“Quiet,” the prince snapped as the priestess began to read her lines louder. 

Somewhere in the castle, a familiar strong voice that belonged to a certain human battering ram rang out. “You aren’t getting through me!” 

“Hurry it up,” the prince urged the priestess. 

Stuttering and stumbling over her words, the priestess tried to finish the wedding ceremony. “Um… you may kiss the bride?” 

Hawke held a hand in front of her face before the prince could get anywhere near her. “If you touch me, I swear I will rip your throat out with my bare hands.” 

The prince glared and grabbed her arm. “Knight Captain,” he called to Meredith, waving her over. 

The two of them gave Hawke a firm escort toward Hawke’s bedroom. Hawke knew what was happening. She’d been far too bold speaking against the prince, and she’d suspected he’d wanted to get rid of her for a while now. With all the chaos going on in Kirkwall, there was no way the prince or any of his cronies would be able to find Carver to kill him. No, the easier solution would just be to kill Hawke and blame it on someone else. 

As they reached the doors to Hawke’s quarters, the sounds of calamity came ever closer. The prince practically shoved her through the door once he opened it, speaking rapidly to Meredith. “Deal with whoever’s here. She won’t be a problem.” 

Meredith nodded and drew her sword, running off down the hallway. Hawke felt the suppression on her magic ebb slightly, but it wasn’t nearly enough for her to do anything. It would take several minutes for her to have enough energy to do anything. Minutes she didn’t have. 

The prince slammed the door, one hand on the hilt of his sword. “It’s a shame, really.” 

Hawke scoffed. “Oh, spare me the bullshit. I’m too inconvenient for you to leave alive. Let me guess, you run me through with a sword and blame it on an assassin. Then, thanks to the support you got from the public for marrying a commoner, you’ll declare war and have plenty of soldiers to follow through.” 

The prince blinked, surprised. “Who told you?” 

“No one. You’re just not as clever as you think you are.” 

The prince sneered. “Well, I can certainly say that you aren’t either.” He drew the sword, brandishing it in front of him. “This is the end of your road, Marian.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” 

Both Hawke and the prince stared at each other, confused. Then, in almost perfect sync, they turned toward the far wall of the room. Sitting there, reclined casually, a wily grin across her face, was Isabela. 

“Isabela!” Hawke shouted, but didn’t dare move with the prince’s sword aimed at her. “You- I thought you were dead!” 

“Well, I was, for a little bit. Tends to happen when you leave me unsupervised.” 

The prince gaped. “How are you- Who-”

“Don’t worry about that.” Isabela grinned with fury in her eyes. “Worry about the fact that I’m going to run you through if you don’t stop pointing that sword at Hawke.” 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” the prince snarled. He turned away from Hawke, moving to point his sword toward Isabela. “I killed you! I watched you die!” 

“I came back from the dead before. What made you think I couldn’t do it again?” Isabela’s position against the wall didn’t shift, but she did incline her head. “I’m the Raider of the Waking Sea. I  _ always _ come back from the dead.” 

“You can’t come back to life if you have no head,” the prince said, stepping forward. 

Hawke grabbed onto his sword arm, wrenching him back. “And what makes you think I’ll let you?” 

“I’m the prince of Kirkwall! I’m your husband; I have the authority!” 

“Oh, am I?” Hawke flashed a fiendish grin. “From what I remember, you didn’t even let the priestess confirm us married.” 

Isabela shook her head. “You’re supposed to spoil your wife on your wedding day, not rush the ceremony.” She paused. “I guess you’re probably not supposed to try and kill her either.” 

“Yeah, I think that’s a bit rude,” Hawke added. 

The prince whirled around to face her, grabbing her by the collar. “You don’t-” 

“Hey!” Isabela shouted, and, almost simultaneously, Hawke punched the prince in the stomach. 

The prince wheezed and dropped Hawke. Hawke stepped back, well out of the reach of the prince’s sword. The prince turned back toward Isabela, noticeably trying to collect himself. 

“You haven’t moved,” he said. “Whatever brought you back — it hasn’t started working all the way yet.” 

“Oh, you’re not wrong,” Isabela said. “I can’t really move at all. But there is one thing your tiny, little brain hasn’t realized yet.” 

“And what is that?” 

“That I’m the distraction.” 

The prince’s eyes widened as he understood. He tried to turn, tried to stab Hawke, but it was too late. The fireball she threw at him burned him nearly to nothing in a few seconds flat. His ashes fell slowly down to the floor as the heat blasted the entire room, nearly knocking Isabela over. 

When the dust, both literal and figurative, had settled, Isabela and Hawke looked at each other. A few seconds passed, the both of them staring. And then Hawke ran forward, barreling into Isabela, sweeping her off her unsteady feet. The two of them leaned into each other, never wanting to let go. 

Of course, they had to when Isabela slumped limply, unable to support her own weight. Hawke lowered her gently to sit against the wall again. She stayed close, arms around Isabela’s shoulders, the two of them leaning together. 

“Told you it was hot when you burned things,” Isabela said. 

Hawke laughed, choking back sobs. “You came back.” 

“I’ll  _ always _ come back, Hawke.” 

“I know. I know.” Hawke held Isabela closer. “I’ll always be here.” 

“Well, I hate to break up the tender moment here, but we should probably get out of here before the guards come kill us all.” 

Hawke turned. Standing in the doorway were three people. A dwarf, a human, and an elf, an odd assembly of odd individuals. Odd individuals that had kidnapped Hawke, at least the last time she had checked. 

“Uh…” Hawke glanced over to Isabela. “I’m assuming they’re with us now?” 

“They did bring me back from the dead,” Isabela said. “So… probably.” 

“We’re certainly not on the side of the prince,” Merrill said, looking down at the floor. “Who appears to be a pile of ashes now. Ooh, that’s unfortunate for him.” 

“That takes care of the problem.” Aveline frowned down at the sword in her hand, attempting to wipe some of the blood off of it. 

“Bartrand’s no longer an issue either,” Varric said. “Bianca and I took care of him.” He hefted his crossbow, putting it in its place on his back. “All we have to do now is get out.” 

Hawke stood, pulling Isabela up with her. “Well, if there’s one thing I’m good at after spending ages in this damned castle, it’s finding my way around.” 

And that was true. With the remaining templars and guards scrambling to figure out where the intruders were, it was relatively easy to find a less-used route to get out of the castle. They stole some horses from the stables and rode, using the cover of darkness and the rioting of the people to get away. They rode for hours, looking for a safe place outside of the city. 

They found it in the Hawke family farm. They would have to move eventually, but for the time, they had some semblance of peace. 

“I think all of you would make fine pirates,” Isabela mused one morning. 

“We certainly have that air of a motley crew about us,” Varric said. 

“We’re not becoming pirates,” Aveline said firmly, crossing her arms. 

“Oh, but wouldn’t it be fun?” Merrill said. “I think we should try it, at least for a little bit.” 

“Yeah, come on, Aveline, live a little,” Hawke added. “I think we’ve all collectively committed treason, so there’s no way to go but up.” 

And that was true. Each of them was free from everything that had held them back before. They could do anything now. They were an odd group of odd people, bound together only circumstance. 

Except for Isabela and Hawke. They had been apart for a long time, but now, they didn’t have to be. Neither of them would have to leave. Neither of them wanted to. They had come back to each other, just as they always knew they would. No matter where they went, they would be together. 

Several days after they had arrived at the farm where they had met so many years ago, Isabela and Hawke found themselves alone together. Neither of them said a word. Neither of them had to. Isabela pulled Hawke into her arms and they kissed, a gesture of love and comfort and relief. A gesture that they were home now. 

No matter where they went, as long as they were together, they would be home. 

\--- 

Varric leans back, sighing tiredly and looking to Cassandra, waiting for her reaction. 

Cassandra is no longer attempting to mask her excitement. She’s grinning, an expression that she so rarely wears around anyone else. “That was… wonderful,” she says. 

“You’re actually admitting it?” Varric’s voice is a mixture of genuine surprise and playful teasing. “I didn’t know you were capable.” 

Cassandra scowls, but her eyes remain light. “Yes, I enjoyed your story.” 

“It was a good way to fill the time. Maybe you’ll have to get injured more often.” 

“I’d rather not.” Cassandra glances at the ground, then back up to Varric. “Although… maybe you could tell me another one anyway. Just to pass the time.” 

Varric grins. “Well, Seeker, you’re in luck. I’m always up for telling a good story.” 


End file.
